


Mrs Sycamore

by TheMockingJ3



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: AU, Based on loosely connected Tumblr prompts, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingJ3/pseuds/TheMockingJ3
Summary: A glance into a life where Mrs Sycamore and her daughter survive.





	Mrs Sycamore

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU of an old AU with OCs standing in for Desmond’s partner and daughter. It’s not necessary to read said-AU to follow this. Basically, Desmond’s partner is ex-Targent and Desmond is helping to raise her child.

Bronev fires a shot the I second throw my sword. My eyes never leave Anne. All of this- this house, our odd little family, our lives of evading and thwarting Targent- has been for her sake.

So, I make a dive for my daughter and leave my partner undefended.

My sword nicks the left side of Bronev’s neck. He drops Anne and his gun with a pained grunt.

I scoop Anne off the floor, but she won’t stop screaming. I hold her to my heaving chest, shielding her from the sight of her fallen father, and survey Bronev’s men with silent, unbridled fury.

I’ll kill every last one of them, for Desmond. 

* * *

There’s nothing righteous about revenge, but no one has more right to eradicate Targent than I do. 

After eight years of toil working under the agency, after losing a lover and now, Desmond… I think I’m quite entitled to mount Leon Bronev’s head on a spike, especially since he managed to escape the house with little more than a grazed neck. 

The only other person who’s suffered so much at Targent’s hands is Hershel Layton, Desmond’s younger brother.

I flee to London with Anne and Raymond, leaving a house of carnage and grief behind us, to join the Laytons.

The day Hershel finally stirs from his coma, I inform him that Targent financed the man who got his girlfriend killed and put a target on his head. (Bronev had discussed this as if it was perfectly acceptable, minutes after shooting his eldest son.)

Lucille fears the news will stunt Hershel’s recovery, but he’s made of stronger stuff than that.

“I’ll do everything I can for you and your daughter,” Hershel promises, “I give you my word, Mrs Sycamore-“

“Mira,” I correct him. 

* * *

I don’t give a damn about archaeology, so it’s up to Hershel to continue Desmond’s research as soon as he’s back at Gressenheller. 

Hershel has some conditions: His parents can’t get involved (agreed), no more senseless killings of Targent agents (kidnapping and torture are still fair game) and if the risk ever proves too great for Anne, he won’t hesitate to remove her from my care.

Aside from this, he rarely oversteps his boundaries as a loving uncle. He teaches Anne, as Desmond did, though his sensible, if slightly distant disposition is more suited for university students than for a child. 

What Hershel lacks is the silly sensational flair that Anne misses so much…  

This set-up works for the next seven years; the Laytons and Raymond look after Anne while I hunt Targent down for answers, always returning home to her. 

She starts school when she’s old enough to hold her tongue, bonds with kids her own age, bakes honey cake with her grandma, beats her grandpa at board games, learns how to ride a bike, kisses a boy, visits the museum with her uncle…

Anne finally has a semblance of the normal, secure life she needs… only Desmond isn’t a part of it. 

I’m away on business one day when Hershel receives a random letter and rushes off to a backwater English town. 

 _Of course_ , I curse as I ride bare horseback halfway across the country, _of course he took Anne with him._

* * *

It’s nightfall by the time I reach Misthallery- the fogbound town with a name that must amuse Raymond to no end. He’s meant to have gotten here before me to round up Anne and her hypocrite of an uncle. 

Hershel didn’t mention _why_ he was suddenly summoned to Misthallery, but Rosa asked the postman where his letter came from and she let Raymond know. 

The streets are favourably devoid of townsfolk, so no one sees me stalking about like a witch that crawled out of the canals. (My recent ‘business’ involved breaking into a heavily fortified Targent vault.) 

The fog thickens as I’m walking over a stone bridge. The stone shudders under my feet, but this doesn’t feel like an earthquake- not in England… 

Something very large is on the move. _I need to find Anne._

If this has _anything_ to do with Targent, I’ll tear Hershel’s top hat to ribbons.  


End file.
